FIRST BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘦-𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺. 𝘈 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘈 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳.
Xanthiene Vivenca's life drones on in a cycle of finding her next meal, ensuring...
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2412, Tull 18, Velpa
Xanthy yawned for the fifth time since she sat in front of the loom. The sound of shuttles sliding through stretched strings resounding in the humid room in an almost synchronous manner filled Xanthy's ears.
Sunlight shone through the room's only window which was large enough for Xanthy to slot her head in but not her shoulders. Look likes there's no escaping through that. Four, concrete walls surrounded almost fifty weavers. Warps turned, treadles slammed and clacked against the floor. Wooden mechanisms fitted with threads spinning from spools ticked matching a second in a timeteller.
Xanthy wiped sweat from her brow and threw her own shuttle towards the other side of the loom. In all the people with her here, she was probably the only one not adhering to some sort of a pattern. Well...make that two.
June fumbled with his own loom for the last hour. He had managed to get his threads tangled with each other, his heddles all messed up, and right now, he was squinting at the roller. Oh, no.
"Hey, have you figured it out?" Xanthy hissed at him. Her voice echoed across the hollow room but none of the other weavers looked away from their work. She tugged at the stiff dress the warden shoved into her face before reporting for mess hall. Was this what the Commons got to wear every day? Ugh. So tight and hot.
June wagged a finger into Xanthy's direction. "Relax, I got this," he insisted.
Xanthy sighed. He hasn't got this. She watched as June cranked the handle. He must have turned it the other way because the work of the previous weaver before him snapped out of its tight hold and flopped into the wooden floor. Oops.
June cursed. This time, at least five female weavers turned from their seats to glare at him. Xanthy raked her fingers at the hair framing her face as she crouched and fixed June's disastrous loom.
Her fingers flew across the complex machine. She saw a loom for the first time when she was herded into this room with June and for some reason, she understood how it works. The loom was such a simple yet ingenious machine. Why couldn't June get it?
She gave a satisfied exhale as she stood up. She tested the roller, plucked at the strings, and passed the shuttle for at least one round. June blinked at her like she had suddenly grown wings. Wait, she didn't, right?
Xanthy glanced at her back and blew a breath of relief. As if things weren't bad for her, already.
She spent the rest of yesterday looking for the woman who saved them. She wanted to thank her for standing up and covering for them against the Civil Guards. The whole evening wore on and Xanthy had scoured the whole grounds without catching a whiff of the woman. At the least, it gave her a good idea of how vast the place was.
Xanthy clamped her jaw to stop the yawn that threatened to blossom from her mouth. What time was it even?
"Lunch time is still two hours away," a male voice said. Xanthy whirled to her right to find a middle-aged man with dark blond hair tied at his nape. His ears were round and human. Good.
